Baby, it's cold outside
by milominderbinder
Summary: Kurt and Blaine spend Christmas eve together, and they can't quite believe how in love they are. Basically PWP, though it's very thinky.


Baby, it's cold outside.

**I was going to post this on Christmas but the internet went down, so hey ho. Here it is anyway. It's basically just a lot of thinking and a blowjob. Happy holidays!**

Blaine has never considered the good side to having distant, workaholic parents until he meets Kurt. Before he would sit alone in his room or wonder aimlessly around the house, pouting and aching and complaining forever in his head that all children deserved to be loved. Now, he blesses every long evening they spend dining with clients, or even better, each whole night that their trips coincide and he is left with a house to himself. Having a boyfriend makes everything seem better.

Having a boyfriend you can have sex with, however, is a whole new level of amazing, as he is learning the hard way. He finds himself urging his parents to take on more clients, more projects, subtly nudging them into neglect and himself into independence. Him and Kurt play married, cooking dinner together and eating in the dining room and laughing and kissing anywhere they like, and then whenever Kurt can convince Burt he's sleeping over at one of his girlfriends houses, they go upstairs to Blaine's room and have sex on the bed before falling asleep next to each other like the regular couple they can't wait to be. It's a whole new kind of beautiful that neither of them ever suspected they would find, this joyous taste of normality.

It's Christmas eve, and Blaine is alone once again. They've got the Christmas special tomorrow, which is something to look forward to, and Kurt has stayed late under the guise of rehearsing. Instead, though, they're stretched out on Blaine's bed, kissing with an almost desperate intensity, because god, if everything hasn't gotten so much more amazing since they lost their virginities to each other in the most tender way Blaine could have ever imagined. All of a sudden every kiss, every touch, every electric pulse of blood heading further south is filled with buzzing promises that they are only too eager to keep.

Blaine almost cries when Kurt pulls away, all soft sighs and creaking voice and damp, swollen lips. He paws at Blaine's hair gently for a few seconds before trying to fix his own. He doesn't succeed. Blaine has frantic hands when they're alone.

"I have to go soon," he eventually admits. The snow dances down outside the window, but the touch of their bodies is keeping them flushed enough for warmth.

"But baby, it's cold outside," Blaine teases with a smile. Memories of long winter nights at Dalton flash between them, a whole other world in an ancient stuffy building, when everything between them was possibility but nothing except a chance duet was tangible. If only Blaine had known, then, the insanity he could drive himself to with Kurt's kisses, he thinks he wouldn't have made it the whole way through that song without pouncing.

Kurt is silent for a second, but says a thousand things just with a pointed glance at Blaine's lap. Sure enough his jeans are tight, far more than at the beginning of the evening, and a brief sweep of his eyes tells him Kurt has the same problem.

"I think cold is exactly what I need right now," Kurt finally replies wryly.

A month ago that statement would've been taken very differently. Blaine would have laughed, and it would have been a joke, because they were comfortable in themselves and they talked about sex, sure, but as some abstract concept that went along with when we're living together or when we're in New York. Now, though, his eyes just darken, and he leans in to kiss Kurt again. Sex is something they do, now. Sure, it's only been six times (five and a half, really, because they're teenagers and they're new to this so it doesn't always last long enough to count) but that's only because of circumstance and the fact that while Blaine's parents put no thought into what he might get up to while they're away, Burt is a hell of a lot more responsible than that, so they're not allowed spend the night together unless they lie.

They don't fuss about with light brushes of the lips now. There's no need for introductory shyness. Instead they fall head first, instantly, into the slow burning passion which is only growing stronger as time goes past. Blaine thinks they could stop eating, stop drinking, never need to sleep again, because this force which pulses inside him and between them is enough to keep the world turning for as long as they need. It's not hurried, or painful, but it makes them smile when they lose their breath and laugh through kisses when they find they can't quite believe this is real. It makes it amazing, the kind of thing Blaine didn't think existed outside of fairytales. He wants to live off this feeling forever.

Kurt forgets all talk of curfew when Blaine hovers over him and kisses him hard, barely touching anywhere but their lips and yet still so, so intense. It's like gravity has forgotten all about them and only their hold on each other keeps them tethered to the earth.

For a minute their lips are nearly still, just crushed together in a desperate, essential touch which neither of them thinks they could survive without. It's the kind of kiss they share when one of them gets thoughts about holidays they'll spend apart or, even worse, the ever looming threat of next year, which is the monster under their beds and the boggart in their closets. They pretend like they can save up these moments, like if they press hard enough and keep still enough the memory of the other will stay with them forever, enough to feed them through all the nights they will have to live over a phone call.

Then, all of a sudden, the hard crush of their mouths isn't enough, and all at once they are twisting into the kiss nearly ferociously, tongues sliding together and hot breath mingling into desperate noises. Where Blaine had been hovering gently over Kurt's body before, he now drops down and pushes every inch of them together, circles one hand around Kurt's thigh and twists the other in his hair, like he thinks he can anchor them together. Kurt sinks into the attention and grabs Blaine's back, sliding his hands up to clasp at his shoulders, pulling their chests so close that Blaine has to tilt his head back just to keep their lips entwined in the damp, warm kiss.

They're both all too aware of the unwelcome boundaries between them, Blaine's winter layers and Kurt's Kurt layers, shirts jumpers bow ties waistcoats, which is bad enough before they get to socks belts jeans underwear, and there's no way they can get it all off fast enough. Still, neither of them wants to break the kiss, so Kurt's waistcoat is discarded with a little wriggling and arching off the bed and then Blaine's cardigan finds its way onto the floor, but they soon find themselves stuck. They keep kissing, hot lips sliding past each other sloppily and gasping breaths sending wordless messages back and forth. Blaine thinks he would almost be happy just to spend the rest of his life like that, attached to Kurt in that most basic and yet most intimate of ways, but then a small shift makes their erections press together through their jeans and he's suddenly reminded oh yeah, there's way better stuff we could be doing.

Kurt's hips buck up involuntarily and he makes a soft, apologetic noise into Blaine's mouth, which Blaine promptly ignores. Instead he slowly grinds down onto Kurt, and they both emit identical groans over each other's lips, hands clutching just a little tighter to keep from falling apart. Blaine finally decides that he needs Kurt's skin, so he pushes his fingers up Kurt's chest, dragging his shirt with them, and pulls his lips away for a second to push the fabric over Kurt's head. Kurt doesn't even open his eyes to see if his shirt has landed on the floor; instead, he just tugs Blaine's off too, and then raises his head slightly off the pillow, desperately searching for the kiss again.

Blaine thinks he's in heaven when his fingers flit across Kurt's bare chest. Kurt has the softest skin Blaine could ever have imagined, and he's so pale and delicate and smooth and just, just perfect. Kurt is still reaching for his lips but Blaine shifts a little and presses them to Kurt's throat instead, burying himself in the tingling beauty that fills the room. Kurt smells like roses and talcum powder and the clean, fresh moisturiser he uses, so delicious and yet still nothing at all what Blaine had ever imagined boy would feel like, be like, but that doesn't matter because Kurt is a boy, in the most perfect way possible. He's so much better than old fantasies of musky cologne and calloused hands that grip too tight. Blaine traces spirals of kisses down Kurt's smooth chest, each one in the place of a whispered I love you, until he reaches the flat plane of Kurt's hips. Then his eyes flick upwards, and he pauses with his mouth against the skin.

"Can I?" he asks, moving one hand to the button on Kurt's jeans, and his voice manages to rise above the desperate breaths and rustled sheets and in the background, muted Christmas songs still looping through Blaine's iPhone speakers, which up until now had seemed the loudest sounds in the world. Kurt's eyes are clamped tight shut, but he's smiling like he can't believe this is real, and he nods. Blaine doesn't need any more encouragement than that, and in a second he has Kurt's jeans unzipped and yanked halfway down his legs. His underwear follows quickly, and then Blaine is presented with probably his favourite sight in the world.

"You're so beautiful," he can't help himself from saying, almost reverent, as he slides back up Kurt's body to envelop him in another kiss. Kurt finally opens his eyes as they break apart this time, his expression warm and contented. He grips Blaine's biceps tightly and can't catch his breath.

"You too," he whispers eventually, studying Blaine's face intensely, even though they're barely an inch apart and all he can see is a Blaine-coloured blur. He goes a little cross eyed and Blaine falls in love all over again. Then he realises they're lying there, pressed together, and Kurt is naked and Blaine is shirtless but still, they're not actually doing anything, which pretty much seems like a waste.

"Can I suck you?" Blaine asks all of a sudden, which is definitely unexpected cus up until now it's just been hand jobs and grinding and that's been amazing, enough for years, and Kurt kind of assumed they'd wait until they were in college or living together to start getting any kind of adventurous. Blaine's looking at him, though, with this wondering sincerity, and in his face is everything beautiful they have together and everything dirty he knows they both fantasise about when they're alone, so he doesn't know if he's surprised or not.

"You really want to?" Kurt checks, and Blaine leans down the few centimetres to kiss him again.

"I really, really do," he admits, speaking straight into Kurt's mouth when their lips have stilled again, and then it's a few seconds of silence before, "yes, please", which has to make Blaine smile because only Kurt freaking Hummel, as close to royalty as Ohio gets and unfailingly adorable, would remember his manners when asking for a blowjob.

The amusement is short lived, though, because it kind of dawns on them both at the same time what is about to happen, and they're nervous and excited and Kurt slides his fingers down Blaine's arm so they can hold hands, squeezing tight for a few seconds, just so all the things they don't need to say can pass between them. Then Blaine is kissing his way back down Kurt's body, stomach clenching with nerves as he finally reaches Kurt's cock. He presses just one kiss to the top of it, and Kurt breathes in sharply. His fingers tangle in Blaine's curls, and they both pause for a second.

"Tell me if I'm doing anything wrong," Blaine finally instructs, his voice rough and deeper than normal. He clears his throat. Glances up, to find Kurt craning his neck awkwardly and staring down at him with the worlds most beautiful expression of longing painted on his features. That's all the encouragement he needs to finally sink his lips over the head of Kurt's erection.

It's everything as good as he imagined it would be. He's spent every night this week fantasising about this exact scenario, and his body certainly remembers that; he's harder than he's ever been just from this first touch of his mouth to Kurt's skin. Kurt's breathing is hitching and quickening, just like he imagined. Kurt is always quiet, not one for obvious groans and attention seeking moans, but there's something more frantic about his silence now. Almost like he can't make a sound. Blaine likes that idea, and sinks his mouth a little further over Kurt's dick, pausing a few seconds before suddenly sucking. That warrants a kind of strangled gasp from Kurt, and his hands tighten in Blaine's hair, hips wriggling a little like it's all he can do not to buck off the bed. The thought sends a rush of heat to Blaine's own cock, and he pushes down onto the bed, trying to get some form of release from the near painful pressure inside his jeans.

It's not supposed to be about him, though, so he tries to forget that he's about to come in his pants and focuses on Kurt. Slowly, he wraps his fingers around the base of Kurt's cock and begins to move his mouth up and down. Kurt's making all sorts of not-quite-noises now, gasping and hissing and trying to whisper parts of words before they're cut off by another deep suck of breath. Blaine starts to move his fingers too, slowly at first, but after a few seconds he's finding a rhythm and then it's all Kurt can do not to scream. It's not too much the technique that's driving him insane, because it's amazing but it's also Blaine's first time so there's a little too much teeth and spit and fumbling tongue, but more the fact that it's a guy he loves and who loves him and Kurt never, ever imagined he would be doing this. That he would have this, this amazing committed and requited love, any time before he was comfortably settled in New York or California, putting the finishing touches on a degree in fashion at some fancy university.

Blaine flicks his tongue along the underside of Kurt's dick, and all of a sudden there's no time to speculate about how lucky they both are or how differently this year could have gone, because Kurt is letting out his first proper moan of the night and Blaine is so turned on he thinks he might die. He slips the hand not wrapped around Kurt's erection down to paw at the front of his own jeans, and then moans around Kurt's dick at the friction when he starts rubbing them both in time. Kurt's hips are twitching again, and his fingers twist and pull at Blaine's hair frantically as he starts gasping in time to Blaine's sucks. It's only when Blaine's movements start to get disjointed and sloppy that Kurt looks down, and pulls away the hand Blaine has been using to stroke himself through his still-buttoned jeans.

"In a minute, I want to do this to you," Kurt manages to say, though his voice is broken and lower than he's ever heard it, when Blaine starts to protest. "Just hold on."

The thought alone is nearly enough to make Blaine come right then, but instead he takes a deep breath and looks up to meet Kurt's eyes. They stare at each other for a moment before Blaine acquiesces, and then all his attention is back on Kurt. Heat is building in both of them as Blaine increases the pace of his hand, still wrapped around Kurt's erection, and then slowly lowers his head back down to suck sharply at the tip. It takes barely a minute before Kurt is ready to scream.

"B-Blaine!" he gasps, making the name into a sentence and a story and a blessing all at once. Blaine understands what he means on every level, from I love you so much to I never want to leave you to I'm so close to fuuuuuuuuuuck. He pulls his lips away at the last second, and one last jerk of his wrist is all it takes for Kurt to fall apart. Blaine presses them together and uses his hand to lightly stroke Kurt through it, kissing all over his chest and throat, wondering how it is he can love someone this much without dying or imploding or doing something dramatic, because surely this is too much amazing for one person, one lifetime, one world. He doesn't believe he gets to keep Kurt forever because it's not fair that he's this lucky.

When Kurt is spent they lie next to each other on the bed, limbs entwined as much as possible and attempting to calm their breathing. It's a few minutes of complete silence, and Blaine almost doesn't care that his erection is still urgently straining at his pants, because he's lying next to the most beautiful, kind, impossible person he knows. No, scratch that; Kurt's not a person, he's an experience. He's everything Blaine both idolises and desires in one gorgeous, explosive, McQueen-encased package. Blaine just wants to wrap himself around him and kiss every inch of his porcelain skin for a thousand years. Then Kurt rolls into his side and gives Blaine a mischievous grin.

"Your turn," he says. They share a giddy look and one last long, hard kiss, before Kurt rolls them over and it's frantic again.

It might be cold outside, but it's definitely warm in here.


End file.
